


The Hanging Tree

by Aviss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Pre-Relationship, book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: It was near midnight on the third day in Pennytree when the rider came.Slight book canon divergence where it's not Brienne who visits Jaime in Pennytree.





	The Hanging Tree

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea how this happened. LSH is my favourite character arcs and I really need to see how it's going to go in canon, but then I thought of this and well. Let's just say I wondered what would happen if Brienne never shouted sword. I might have made it a bit worse for her, sorry. 
> 
> Warnings in the endnotes just in case.

It was near midnight on the third day in Pennytree when the rider came. 

Jaime could tell his men were getting restless and were ready to move on, ready to go back to King's Landing. The Riverlands were as peaceful as they were likely to get in these troubled times, and his King needed guidance he wasn't going to get from his mother. If she yet lived. Jaime had burned the letter and no more news had come since then. He didn't know whether Cersei had faced her trial or how it had ended, and he was surprised to realize he didn't much care.

Let her face the consequences of her actions for once; she hadn't wanted him around until she'd had need of him, why would he run to her now? Let her ask one of her other Knights for help, he was too crippled and old for it.

"My Lord," one of the sentries he had posted around the village called him, "This man rode in, bold as you please, and asked to speak to you. He had this on him." 

He showed Jaime a sword, and he startled and looked at the man.

It was Thoros of Myr, or a shadow of the red priest Jaime remembered. He wasn't fat or jolly anymore, his bald head wrinkled and spotted by age and mud, lines of care and grief on his face. He still had a beard, though it was a matted and dirty thing now. He was wearing rags, the sword an incongruous sight next to them, and it was this what had Jaime on his feet in an instant. He would have recognized that gold lion pommel with ruby eyes anywhere, same as the wench that was supposed to carry it. Jaime felt his stomach clenching, how did that sword fall into Thoros's hands? Had he given it to someone else, Jaime would not be surprised it had been bartered for money to pay for drink or whores but Brienne would not do that; she was too straight and honest for it, she would not have surrendered her sword easily, or willingly.

Jaime had unsheathed his own sword and was holding the tip to Thoros's throat, his left hand steadier than it had been since he started training with Ser Ilyn, before he was conscious of his own intentions. "That's quite the sword you have there, Thoros of Myr. _Where did you get it?_" he asked, and his voice didn't sound like anything he had heard from his mouth before, it was as cold as the Wall and as a deadly as the sword in his hand.

He saw the surprise register on Thoros's face, his mouth turning up slightly on the corners. "Ser Jaime," Thoros said, and even his voice sounded like it had aged more than the handful of years that had passed since he left the court. "I won't beat around the bush. I saw it in the fire, for the first time in too long R'hllor showed me the true path and I saw how lost we were. I saw I needed to come here and bring you this, and you need to come with me and stop Lady Stoneheart. That's where I got the sword, the Brotherhood without Banners captured Lady Brienne of Tarth and her companions."

The Brotherhood had Brienne? For a heartbeat, Jaime forgot how to breathe. The Brotherhood had called themselves Knights at one point, but they were little better than outlaws and murderers now, they had been hanging Lannister and Frey soldiers wherever they could find one. What would they do to a woman carrying a Lannister sword? His mind went to the women hanged by the river when he was travelling with Brienne, _They lay with Lions_, the sign had said their sin was. Brienne had not lain with any lion, but her crime was probably worse since she had been gifted that sword by the Kingslayer himself. 

He felt his hand itching with the need to drive the point of his own sword through Thoros's neck but he held himself in check. Dead, the man was worth nothing to him. "Is she still alive?" he asked, refusing to think about how death sometimes was preferable to captivity. Especially for a woman. 

"She was when I left, a day's ride from here," Thoros said, and Jaime lowered his sword but didn't sheathe it. 

For now, Thoros would keep his life.

He sent the sentry to call his captains. "_You will tell us everything_," he said, voice low and menacing.

Thoros did, showing them the location of the caves and telling Jaime how many men they had and how many weapons. It was the middle of the night and some of his men grumbled about it, but Jaime had forty of his best riding with him and a maester. They were, most of them, excited enough to put the Brotherhood into the ground. They had seen the crimson-clad men swinging from trees, had even known a few of them and would be glad to take revenge for them. It might be a trap, but Jaime didn't care, not when Thoros had brought Oathkeeper with him. 

He didn't have time to analyze why.

They were riding at a nice clip, Thoros's horse tied to Jaime's just in case he suddenly had an idea of leaving. Somehow Jaime didn't think so, Thoros of Myr had been one of Robert's drinking companions, and he had been a lout and a drunkard, but never craven. The man riding with him was the furthest possible from the affable drunkard, his eyes haunted and his body wasted and hardened by war. 

"You're one of their leaders, why sell them out?" Jaime finally asked, darting a quick look at Thoros, who was swaying on his saddle. Exhaustion more than likely if he'd ridden for a day to get to them, though Jaime was disinclined to feel sympathy for him. They had the wench, and for all he knew she could be dead already.

He should have never sent her into that hell on her own, what the hell had he been thinking about? That she was not safe in King's Landing, not with his sister on the warpath after Joffrey's death. And that she was stubborn enough to find Sansa for the both of them.

Jaime was tempted to pray for her protection as he did before, but by now it was too late for it to do any good, even if the Gods were listening. 

"I've seen it in the flames, you both are needed somewhere else," Thoros finally said like the fanatic he had always been, his voice raspy and low, almost too low for Jaime to hear without straining, his words dragging. "Beric shouldn't have kissed her, he should have left her there. Some people don't deserve the kiss of life, and she had been gone for too long." There were rumours about the red priest bringing people back to life with a kiss, and that Beric Dondarrion had been gifted with eternal life thanks to this. The Brotherhood hadn't been much of a concern with Thoros and Beric as commanders, even with the tales of eternal life and witchcraft, but that was before this Lady Stoneheart. Her name was now uttered with fear and she was fond of hangings. And she had Brienne. Jaime clenched his jaw and let Thoros continue. "She wasn't right when she came back, but I couldn't stop her because Beric had given his life for her, and R'hllor hadn't sent me a vision in too long. I had lost faith, and then I lost the Brotherhood to her thirst for vengeance." He looked at Jaime with those haunted eyes of his. "Justice. I remember justice. It had a pleasant taste. I haven't tasted it since Beric brought her back."

"If this Stoneheart is so cruel," Jaime said, his words measured. "Why would Lady Brienne still be alive?" It didn't make sense for her to be kept alive when they had killed everyone else.

Thoros's eyes were pained when he looked at Jaime. "It's not a kindness," he said, and he looked down as if ashamed. "Lady Brienne was hurt and feverish when we captured her. The brothers were less than gentle to her because she kept calling for you in her fever, and was carrying a Lannister sword. _Kingslayer's whore_, they have named her." Jaime felt that name like a punch in the gut but again was not surprised at the cruelty of men. He remembered the way Ron Connington had fallen down in the bear pit, how good it had felt to hear the crunch of bone and see the blood on his face, and wondered whether Thoros would make such a satisfying noise falling off his horse if Jaime hit him. He hadn't been the one to give her that name, though, and he wasn't finished. "Lady Stoneheart called her worse, she called her _Oathbreaker_, and wouldn't listen to any word of protest coming from her. Lady Brienne insisted she was keeping her vow and so were you through her."

That was when the final piece of the puzzle clicked for Jaime, and he felt a lurch in his stomach. "You brought _Catelyn Stark_ back?" he hissed, careful that none of his soldiers heard him. It sounded ridiculous said out loud, but there was no doubt in his mind that he was right. "Are you insane?"

"I asked him not to, but he didn't listen to me," Thoros said mournfully. He had lost his friend but Jaime couldn't care less about them. Catelyn Stark, of course it made some twisted kind of sense she was Lady Stoneheart; she had been taking revenge on Lannisters and Freys for the cruelty and betrayal of her family. And she had the wench? He could still remember how she went away inside when she heard of her death, how she had cried for Catelyn Stark and her son, and how she had refused to stop looking for Sansa Stark even when there was nobody to uphold her oaths to.

"What has she done to Lady Brienne?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"Gave her a choice, sword or noose. Your head for her life, and that of her companions." Jaime closed his eyes. Damn the wench, she should have chosen the sword and fuck everything. He wasn't worth her life. "Lady Brienne refused to choose and got the noose."

He looked sharply at Thoros. "You said she's alive." If he had lied he was going to get the sword now. They would find the caves themselves with the instructions they had.

"Yes, I also said that's not a kindness. Your Lady Brienne has been hanged for you several times already, they always cut her down before it's too late and Lady Stoneheart will give her the same choice again the next day."

Jaime felt horror rising in him, a wave of nausea that almost made him double up on the saddle. He had thought about the Bloody Mummers and their attempts to force themselves on the wench when they were in captivity together, he had believed that to be the worst thing that could happen to her. He had always lacked imagination. All that suffering to save his life? He wasn't worth that pain, nobody was. "You better pray to that fiery God of yours she's still alive when we arrive, or you'll regret that he sent you to me."

Thoros nodded as if he hadn't expected anything else and Jaime spurred his horse, forcing the entire group to increase their pace. 

If anyone wanted to complain, one look at his face was enough to still their tongues.

… 

They reached the caves before nightfall. 

Thoros had warned them of sentries around the caves, and Jaime had sent two men to dispatch them before they all dismounted and took positions around the entrance. Once inside, if what Thoros said was true, they would have little space to manoeuvre. The most important thing was to kill Lady Stoneheart and locate Brienne, everything else, Jaime cared little. If everyone in the Brotherhood was slain it was nothing but what they deserved.

"There are women in there," Thoros had said when Jaime had given the orders. "Asks your soldiers not to harm them."

"What were these women doing while Lady Brienne was being hanged?" Jaime had countered, but he still had told his men to kill only if necessary. Anyone what surrendered or wasn't armed was to be spared and sent to King's Landing to face justice. 

Thoros had given him a half-smile. "She was right, you are a changed man."

"Not so changed you will live if she's dead."

And now they were here, and the shock on the Brotherhood's faces when they saw Thoros leading a Lannister garrison was enough to quiet the last of Jaime's mistrust on the red priest. The battle was brief but bloody, a couple of the women came at the soldiers with daggers and hatred painted on their faces, and they died for it, but the ones who put down their weapons, men and women, were spared, and Jaime felt proud of his men for their restraint; he knew how easy it was to continue the carnage when their blood was up. 

There was one man wearing a stained yellowish cloak and the Hound's helmet, though he wasn't the Hound, not by a long shot. He looked at Jaime and then cast his eyes to the other side of the cave where three bodies were thrown in a corner. "You've come for your whore, Kingslayer?" he asked, his voice dripping with hatred. Jaime wanted to drive his sword through him, and he stopped to face him before Ilyn Payne almost pushed him into the ground and took his place, his wordless cackle reminding Jaime he wasn't ready to fight with a halfway to decent swordsman. Jaime bristled because he had been practising with his left hand, but Payne was right and they both knew it. He stumbled a few feet away and moved in the direction of the figures he saw; they had not moved at all and from that distance and in the dimness of the cave Jaime couldn't see clearly who they were. He suspected, though, and hoped their immobility was because they were unconscious, not dead. 

Someone else was heading their way, moving slowly and covered with a cloak, but the glint of metal in their hand was all Jaime needed to know who it was. 

"Lady Catelyn," he called, loudly, and she stopped and turned to him. There was barely anything recognizable of what once had been Catelyn Stark, except for the hatred on her face when she faced Jaime. That was the same, if not greater than before. Her blue eyes were now milky white and her once pale skin was now the colour of curdled milk, blackened rents and gouges on her face, and a wide slit from side to side on the once lovely neck. Her hair, what little of it remained, was brittle and white and her hands were curled into claws. It was a face for nightmares but Jaime already had enough monsters to visit him at night to spare her more than a thought. He had a feeling she was going to be in the wench's, though. "Looking as lovely as ever, I see."

She made a wheezing noise, any words she wanted to say escaping from her rent throat before they could be formed. She put her hand to her throat and opened her mouth again. "_Kingslayer_," she rasped, barely audible. "_Whore_," she looked at the corner, confirming that was where Brienne was. 

_No, my sister is not here_, he thought. "You got the wrong woman, my Lady," he said out loud, and this time when he unsheathed his sword nobody got in his way. 

Lady Catelyn Stark had never been craven and in his way, Jaime had admired her; killing this thing would also honour the lady she had been. She attacked, wildly and uncoordinated, Jaime had little trouble sidestepping her. He might be a cripple now, but he was a trained soldier, and that training hadn't abandoned him completely. Even left-handed, he had her head separated from her shoulders in three strokes, was turning to Brienne when a burly northerner got in his way. 

"You're man enough to kill our lady twice, Kingslayer," the man spat, advancing on him. "But not me. You'll pay for that. "

They clashed swords for a minute, enough time for him to realize Payne had probably saved his life earlier, much as it rankled, and that he was going to need saving again. Maybe the Seven heard him, as soon as he faltered a sword sprouted from the man's chest, one of his Captains pushing him to the ground where he gurgled his last breath before he moved to another foe with a respectful nod at Jaime. 

He bit down on the bitter remark that sprang to his tongue; a battle was not the place for pride and if he wanted to not need his men's assistance, he needed to improve. Besides, now he had a clear path to Brienne and he was by her side in just a few steps.

He went to his knees next to the bodies in the corner, grabbing the biggest by the shoulder and turning them towards him. He exhaled when he did; it really was Brienne, not that he had any doubt the moment he had seen that straw-coloured hair. He took in the limp body sprawled in front of him, how unnaturally still she was, and put his hand on her neck until he could feel a faint fluttering there. She was alive. 

He sagged, the force of his relief surprising even him. He didn't know when he had started to care so deeply for the wench, she had been little more than an annoyance when she'd sent her on her quest. The quest that had almost killed her. He had not thought she would be in this kind of danger, he hadn't thought at all. He only realized now she had not been far from his thoughts and prayers the entire time. 

Around him the noises of battle were dying out, Jaime didn't look away from Brienne. He trusted his men had everything in hand now Lady Stoneheart was dead. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Brienne, she looked like she had aged ten years in the few moons since he had seen her last. She was still as big and homely as he remembered, but now there were lines on her face and circles under her eyes that didn't belong on a maid of twenty summers. There was a bandage on one of her cheeks, dirty and bloody, the other cheek sunken as if she had been missing both meals and sleep. The worst was around her neck, like a macabre necklace there were bruises layered over bruises and abrasions. From the rope they had hanged her with. 

Jaime felt the surge of rage in him, and if he could he would have killed Lady Catelyn one more time.

He couldn't, he could just kneel here and press his hand against Brienne's forehead and then her uninjured cheek. "Come on, wench, wake up," he said in an undertone. "I've come all the way here, it's the least you can do."

She didn't move, and neither did he. 

One of his men went to check the other two bodies and determined them to be alive as well. One of them was but a boy, and he looked familiar though Jaime couldn't spare him more than a glance. The other could have been anyone and Jaime had forgotten his face the moment he wasn't looking at him. Both of them had the same marks around their necks.

"My Lady," he tried again, "you can't die in here, you haven't found Lady Sansa and you're too stubborn to give up." That was true, somehow Jaime knew that if Brienne survived this she was just going to continue with her search. Continue with the mission he had assigned to her in his selfishness. "I have no intention of letting you out of my sight again, though. You get in all sorts of trouble on your own." She was either coming with him to King's Landing, and wouldn't that be fun if Cersei was still alive and free, or Jaime was going to go with her. But he wouldn't be responsible for her death. Not for his honour.

He wouldn't have felt the slight twitch under his hand had he not been completely focused on her, but he was, and he saw the moment her eyes opened, unfocused and clouded with pain but so very blue. He had forgotten how incredible her eyes were. 

He could tell the moment she saw him, her eyes trying to focus on him, and he gently pulled back her hair from her forehead before his hand covered her cheek again. She leaned into the touch almost unconsciously, and her mouth opened and closed several times, a tiny moan falling from her lips. Her throat must be on fire, and yet she kept trying to talk. 

He looked around and signalled for one of his men to bring him a waterskin, and gently poured some drops on her mouth. She swallowed greedily, a pained frown on her face, and opened her mouth again. 

"Jaime," she said, her voice a ruin, tears gathering on the corner of her eyes. "You're here."

"I am."

"I called for you, Jaime." She tried to smile, still not fully there, and it was a feeble painful thing. "You came for me." She closed her eyes and went down again.

"I'll always come for you, my Lady," he said, though she couldn't hear him anymore.

He wasn't surprised to realize he meant it.

...

**Author's Note:**

> Violence, Torture (repeated hangings) mentioned though not detailed.


End file.
